The Parade Makes a Hard Right into Chaos

O this ragabash of clowns leading the national parade with their upside trickle downs their ships for shoes and flappy gowns— their huuuuuge fake news charade! O hang this ragabash of clowns and the unfunny mess they’ve made with their treacle nonsense nouns and gibberish through smiles as frowns their constant in and out charade. … Continue reading The Parade Makes a Hard Right into Chaos →

Pickles are not Among the Chosen.

“You know, really, pickles aren’t green,” Edna said. She was emptying a jar of koshers into her mouth. Vern, per usual and to remain on the safe side, did not say anything. He kept head down and his brown, work leathered hand dipping the soup spoon into the oatmeal and lifting it into his mouth. … Continue reading Pickles are not Among the Chosen. →

Phil Paints Tighty-Whiteys (Unfortunately)

The first thing Phill Uperdone noticed that early November morning was that yellow was everywhere. The next thing he noticed is that there was no purple. The studio was a vast wash of yellow ocher and cadmium yellow (deep, medium, and pale); there were lemon, Indian, golden and gamboge yellows, and these were smeared, sprayed, … Continue reading Phil Paints Tighty-Whiteys (Unfortunately) →

Orson Dwid Meets a Neighbor

Orson Dwid had just about had it with the guy wearing the bright pink shirt and scintillating green jeans. Where the hell do they sell that kind of. . . . Orson could not think of an appropriate adjective to describe whatever the guy was wearing. He was going to say ‘shit’ but it was … Continue reading Orson Dwid Meets a Neighbor →

Drabble Loads Writelee.com!

The writelee.com poem "Depth of the Mirror" is currently appearing on the wordpress e-zine See it at: Depth of the Mirror on The Drabble .

All Her Lines (the Artist)

All her lines are fine and shift in remarkable ways as she brushes hair, hip and décolleté, or strokes to draw an eye. A simpered lip shapes vocabularies and certain curves string a long line of one-eyed rube-in-ruts in their wake. she will amuse the dandy or dangle depending on her angle, But, what he … Continue reading All Her Lines (the Artist) →

A Riddle for the Morning

O, they are an innocent few and frail as morning dew concerned with what not to do. Right-out-of-the-package new, they habitually eschew the good old raunchy screw far past the age of twenty-two. Can you tell me who? These are the sweet __________. Please post your response to the riddle in a comment.

The Day Andy Giff was Champion of the Montana

There was a little quiet and a thump from down in the wooden chutes and I saw my Dad bob up behind a gate, then let himself down easy, looking down at the horse under him, one hand holding for a minute to the top of the gate. I knew it was him because of … Continue reading The Day Andy Giff was Champion of the Montana →

I Only Go Because I Need

I looked at the clock on the tower behind the big church, and it was 11:32. It was five hours and twenty-eight minutes until they served at the shelter. I crossed Main and went up 2nd past the fruity tutti bar. Everybody knows me here and just scowl and tell me to move along. They … Continue reading I Only Go Because I Need →

I am of two birds whether the feeder's sure seed or hunger of horizons Writelee initially piloted this yesterday. It is Goodby and Retrospective 1. From May 30, 2018